Chimera

Part 5

I have returned to the familiar void. The hallway has disappeared for the second time along with the mystery person. 

As tired as I am already, the dream ends up sending me back in and out of that hallway a few more times. This place continues to serve me strange and disturbing adversity. It's all a blurring together now. It feels like I am living out a very grim and pretty personalized Indiana Jones. I get all the struggle, the fear, the sweat, but really no feeling of triumph. There's no theme music to play when I progress, or narrowly escape something. No fancy whip to pull me out of trouble. No fascinating love interest to inspire me. Only this relentless, dark, damp hallway. 

Each time I return, I feel like I am noticing that evasive person around me more frequently and sometimes very closely. At this point, I no longer fear them. I'm a little bit frustrated that I don't get to find them. I can't help but wonder what it's all about. I want to know who they are. I want to know where they are. I want to know why they are here with me and what they've been doing this whole time. Is it a game to them? Are they trying to tease me? Well, not anymore. I'm going to find them and get my answers.

I've returned to the hallway for the fourth time. Maybe the sixth. I'm not sure anymore. I start walking forward at a relaxed pace. There's no sign of them or any new challenges. 

This goes on for what feels like several slow minutes until I notice that the hallway actually comes to an end. Wait, it's not an end. It splits to the left and right. For the first time, I have a choice. I have the option to go right or to go left. It feels like a bit of freedom. As I slowly but surely make my way down this long straight-shot, I begin to wonder if what lies beyond either turn is much different. If I make the choice to head right, maybe I will find the same fate that would greet me on the left. I'll never know which way is potentially better. Or potentially worse.

I slow to a near stop when that thought creeps in. What if I go the wrong way? What if there is a wrong choice? Before I can think too hard about it, I jump to a conclusion in reaction to catching sight of them run from right to left in the dark distance of the hall. I get the slightest impression that this is a real person and that this person is a young woman. I want to go left. I need to find out who they are. I immediately start running and take the left corner tightly. I'm admittedly being a bit rash and reacting on impulse, which is why I'm not entirely surprised by nearly falling. It is much like Indiana Jones now. I nearly fall into a pit of snakes. How cliche of you, subconscious. I thought you were, maybe, more avant garde than this. 

But I am a bit confused. I'm not very scared of snakes. In fact. when I was a little girl, I even loved snakes. Just the other week, I picked one up in the woods and felt young again. Just for a moment. Unfortunately, though, I realized I wasn't as brave as I was back then. I remember a Polaroid of 4-year-old me holding up the midsection of a giant, yellow boa constrictor with a zoo keeper. I had such a huge grin on my face and was basically hugging that large reptile like my own fluffy dog. 

One thing I've noticed about growing up is that I've actually leaned to fear more. As I've grown older, I lost my faith in other beings. I started fearing people and animals because they all have the potential to harm me. To clarify, I don't assume that anything or anyone really wants to hurt me--just the thought that they can keeps me at bay. 

Fear grew and so did pride. Maybe pride is what's beating out fear in favor of finding this person. It's pride stemming from the refusal to be toyed with. I may not be in control of this dream but I'm not a pushover either. These are some large snakes. They are striking at each other and striking upward at where my feet flirt with the steep edge of their pit. I see that this is not a friendly party and I try to block out the dissonant yet orchestral hissing taking place just before me as I look around. The area missing from the familiar stone surface stretches from wall to wall. There is a log that conveniently lays over top of the eight to ten foot long pit to create a small and precarious path to safety. Classic. I should have taken long-jump more seriously in high school track and field. This wooden route isn't much wider than a balance beam and I have doubt in its stability as well as strength.

 While trying to avoid sharp fangs beneath me, I stomp my right foot twice while reaching a couple feet out onto the makeshift bridge. This little test tells me that the branch might move, but it just might be strong enough to let me stay above snake level. It's not the most reliable way to test whether it'll break or not, but my options are limited and I don't want to lose them. 

I allow myself to breathe deeply a few times before making my first careful steps--or small shuffles--forward.